


Green-Eyed Monster

by Firelightmystic



Series: 2018 Stony MCU Bingo [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 10yearsofmcu, 2018 Stony MCU Bingo, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Dom/sub, Dominant Steve Rogers, Emotional Manipulation Thy Name Is Tiberius Stone, IT WAS ONLY A KISS, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Punishment, Relationship Sabotage, Sex Tapes, Steve Will Murder Tiberius Stone One Day, Subverted Power Dynamics, Tabloid Gossip Spree, Tiberius Stone Has Plans, Tony Gets Hit With A Clue Stick, Tony Misses The Point, Tony is oblivious, challenge: mcu bingo, how did it end up like this, submissive Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelightmystic/pseuds/Firelightmystic
Summary: A business dinner and bumping into an old friend shouldn't go this horribly awry, but nothing ever goes as expected when Ty Stone is involved.





	Green-Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for my "Tabloids & Gossip" bingo square.
> 
> Massive thanks to the lovely wynnesome for the beta and epic punny headlines. Any mistakes are a product of my own hardheadedness.

“Hello, Tony.”

Tony’s briefcase crashed to the floor with a loud clatter that he scarce paid heed to, because...because… _hnnnnnggh._

Holy mother of fuck, _Steve._

Tony’s eyes flickered over Steve’s posed form, taking in the various bits and pieces, namely the lack thereof. Steve had on a pair of broken-in jeans that fit him snugly in all the right places and had a ragged hole worn into one knee, to say nothing of the various rips and tears. Steve hadn’t bothered to button or zip up the jeans, leaving them hanging open low around his hips to reveal a tantalizing bulge and a thatch of coarse pale blonde hair. Steve wore absolutely nothing else except his dog tags, which were resting on the hard planes of his chest, and a towel, which was slung over his shoulder.

“Cat got your tongue?” Steve’s voice was smug and thick with self-satisfaction as he leaned against the doorframe of Tony’s bedroom, just casually lounging there as if he wasn’t perfectly well aware that Tony’s brain was leaking out from between his ears.

Tony’s only reply was a desperate noise in the back of his throat as he continued to stare, utterly incapable of words. As soon as he'd walked through the foyer of his penthouse and spotted his Dom, he'd grown immediately, achingly hard, and his brain had gone fuzzy and packed it up for the night. It took a lot to derail Tony’s train of thought and shut him down completely, and Steve had accomplished it in two seconds flat. Steve looked like he’d just come out of a risqué photoshoot, all glowing and damp from his shower.

Steve reached from behind his back--that’s right, Steve had kept one arm out of view, hadn’t he?--and held up a length of chain and attached to the end of it. Oh.

_Oh._

Fuck.

Apprehension ran up his spine as he took in the thick brown collar and accompanying length of chain. Three rows of thin raised studs lined the inside of the supple leather, not pointy enough to cause injury, but enough for discomfort. Not that it mattered, in the end. The real issue was the collar itself.

Obie had insisted on it because it was just one more way to keep Tony in line and under his thumb, and he had voluntarily worn one for Pepper, as a way of smoothing the way for her whenever his presence was required at Stark Industries. She had enough to deal with by just being a woman in a male-dominated field, CEO or no.

Steve, however, didn’t _need_ to have his sub collared in order to make it clear who was in charge, Tony had long since learned, which worked just fine for him because he personally despised being collared. It reeked too much of old-world expectations of subservience and role inequality, and he already had enough neurosis on his plate without dealing with automatically being second-guessed and underestimated and written off as “just a bratty sub” as well, all of which tended to accompany him being seen in a collar.

Even in private, there was a fine curl of humiliation that wound through him and set him off balance whenever he wore one. Tiberius had insisted because he couldn’t stand to bypass the display of power, Obie had _loved_ collaring’s effect on him and exploited it for all it was worth, and Pepper had always made it up to him because she was a fucking angel, but Steve...

Steve hadn’t even _had_ a collar to use originally, until he and Tony had gotten into an epic row that had spilled over into a mission. Tony had been in a foul and petty mood the whole time they were in transit because Steve had had the high ground on the argument and it _rankled._

He’d finally pushed past the limits of Steve’s patience, though, and the world (well, the rest of the team anyway, which had been bad enough) was gifted with the sight of Captain America hauling off and yanking one of his spare combat belts out of a storage compartment so that he could wrap it around the neck of Tony’s armor. Tony had been shocked immobile, utterly stunned as Steve fucking pulled rank as his Dom _and_ as leader of the leader of the Avengers, because if Tony “wanted to get ridiculously out of line in a professional setting,” then Steve “would meet him half-damn-way and give him a taste of how they used to handle brats back during the War.”

Tony had been so damn tempted to escalate, but Steve’s vicious glare had quite clearly said, “Fucking. Try. Me,” and Tony remembered a long-standing legend, passed around even into current times, of Captain America bending one of the Commandos over his knee and taking a belt to his ass in front of God and Man and half the 107th. It had been either Falsworth or Barnes, as the Commandos had only ever had two Subs in their ranks (Falsworth had denied it was him until his dying day), and Tony didn’t care to contemplate what was in store for him if any iota of that tale were true.

Tony had subsided, burning with humiliated rage about the collaring for almost the entire span of the mission, which shifted into just plain humiliation because he _had_ been in the wrong in the first place, and then he’d compounded things by digging in his heels and being contrary just to spite Steve, and had let things get wildly out of hand. When they’d returned to the Tower, Steve had reclaimed his belt and avoided Tony for almost two full days, citing a need to clear his head and think some things through. He’d returned with the belt, now neatly studded and attached to a length of welded silver steel chain, and searched Tony out.

Tony, churning with humiliation and self-recrimination and worry that Steve had finally had all he could stand, had been desperate to get past the hurdle and back into his Dom’s good graces, but the collar… It was _ugly._ It was plain and utilitarian, clearly nothing he would have ever chosen for himself, and aimed at discomfort. Tony had balked at it. _One for each hour, Tony,_ Steve had said. _One for every hour of peace you cost me, and one for every hour it’s going to cost_ you _in return_. Afterwards had followed an intensely wretched day-and-change of wearing the collar before Steve called things as square, and Tony could’ve wept. He thought he actually might’ve, when Steve had removed the collar and let him sink into his body and rock them to completion.

Afterwards, Tony only ever saw that collar when Steve was doling out punishments, and Tony had to fuck up _royally_ for that to even occur.

What had he done?

Holy shit, what the hell was this about?

Shunted out of his state of intense arousal by the sight of the collar, Tony frantically recalled all the recent events he could. There was nothing, though. He and Steve had been _golden_ before he’d left for business Sunday night, and then he’d been gone the whole week down in Texas for a NASA consult. That had been all business.

Steve, who had dropped his pose and let some of his irritation show, scowled at Tony.

“How was the trip?”

Tony’s throat bobbed nervously as he fumbled for any clue about what had gone wrong, hoping maybe he could fix it before Steve decided to enact whatever plan he had cooked up. Steve’s punishments were never physical--physical pain was never going to be a deterrent for him, and Steve knew it--but instead tended towards mental tactics. There had been the time he had dumped a shit-ton of rice into a large bowl and made Tony count it grain by grain because he had a distinct lack of patience out on the field; another time, they’d had a spectacular blow-up due to Tony hiding injuries, and Steve had assigned him a ten thousand-word essay on “Trust And What It Means To Me,” due by the time Tony had been deemed fit for at least light duty. Steve had a keen eye for punching a hole in Tony’s pride, while at the same time choosing a punishment that ended up bettering Tony at the same time.

The essay’s final draft--because Steve had returned the first one covered in a sea of red ink, along with a Hodges Harbrace Handbook, and made him do edits--had actually forced some uncomfortable truths to the surface that Tony hadn’t realized he needed to get off his chest. And the rice...well, the rice had just pissed him off, but in the 9 hours it’d taken him to count out 39,043 grains of rice, he’d definitely learned a thing or two about patience, and also had a thought or two about modified cereal grains that might help stave off the onslaught of world hunger; that, he had shunted down to Stark Labs, and it was yielding exciting results. 

Tony wondered what new life-improving change he was about to develop.

“The trip went fine. How were things here?” Tony asked carefully. No, really, what the hell had crawled up Steve’s ass this time? This was so unfair, dammit. Steve didn’t get to break out the collar while looking life a manifestation of his more advanced wet dreams. Bullshit!

“It was fine,” Steve mimicked. “How was Tiberius Stone?”

Fuuuuuuuccckkk.

Tony, confronted with the proverbial nature of the beast, wondered if he could make it to the elevators before Steve caught him. He wanted no part of the looming disaster. Steve got very irrational about Ty.

The Texas trip had gone well, and it had been all business. Well, all business except for the dinner he taken his business partners to on Friday night. He'd bumped into Ty, and invited him to join them because ViaStone was a major contributor to NASA, and it never hurt to keep the donation pipeline open. Ty had taken him up on it, and through the course of the dinner, which had become dessert, and then drinks, everyone else had trickled away until it was just Ty and Tony and a giant-ass bowl of bread pudding, catching up on the year-and-a-half since they'd last seen each other.

Ty had talked about his DreamVision project that he’d been working on ever since he’d returned from Europe, there’d been some reminiscing about their youth, and they’d just…relaxed. Simply let themselves be. There’d been a playful scuffle over the check at the end that concluded with Ty cleverly switching the receipts and paying for everything _except_ his own meal behind Tony’s back. Then, thanking him effusively for a lovely “date,” Ty had taken his own receipt, tucked it into Tony’s lapel, and playfully stolen a quick kiss before strolling off. It had just been a joke, like the playful smacks Tony gave Rhodey or Bruce, even Pepper, but Steve wouldn’t take it that way.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.

Steve wasn’t a jealous man, normally. He’d not felt threatened by Tony’s mile-long reputation or his past relationship with Pepper, but Tiberius Stone... Steve _hated_ Ty. Tony couldn’t understand it and had eventually decided it was because Ty held so much significance for him that Steve felt like he couldn’t compete. Ty had been his first, after all. His first crush, his first love, his first _lover_ , his first Dom, his first heartbreak, his first “friend with benefits,” and the man Tony would probably _always_ love in some part, no matter who was in the picture. There was history there that Steve would never touch, and Tony supposed it drove him up the wall.

It also didn’t help that Ty was a gigantic asshole, sometimes.

Ty _knew_ all of that and had gloated about it. He’d rubbed that fact in with Obadiah--who’d ignored Ty entirely but taken it out on Tony’s hide--and later with Pepper, who cut her teeth daily on bigger and badder men than Tiberius Stone, and verbally flayed him alive. Ty had attempted the same with Steve, who had eventually snapped and laid him out with a beauty of a right hook in a private side-room confrontation at a charity dinner, before snapping at Tony that Ty didn’t get to touch him and dragging him off to an out-of-the-way closet like a caveman. It had been a _really_ good evening after that, Tony remembered fondly.

Still, Steve had been edgy about Ty ever since, no matter that Ty had just been playing around and taken things too far, or that Tony wasn’t interested.

It wasn’t like Tony was _in love_ with Ty, not at all, but even though their relationship was long over there was no denying the jumble of emotions that his old flame still managed to stir up. Rhodey and Pepper both knew that no one managed to affect Tony quite like Ty; they seemed convinced that there was a very real chance of Ty coaxing Tony into giving their relationship another try (which would be bad news all around), and tended to get antsy when they were together. Tony _knew_ they had told Steve as much, and Steve had apparently drunk the Kool-Aid, because he seemed to see Ty as a threat to everything--to their relationship, to their friends, to Tony _himself_ \--and Tony honestly didn’t know what to make of it.

Oh, dammit it all.

“Ty was fine Steve. We bumped into each other when I took my partners out to dinner. We just caught up. Nothing to get worked up about.”

“Nothing to--shit, Tony, do you know what I had to put up with?” Steve demanded, blood rushing to his face. “I decided to surprise you--” Steve gestured at himself “--and when I went out to pick up a few things earlier to welcome you home, guess what I got to see?”

“Nothing good, I take it.” Tony muttered glumly. Five minutes. Less than that, really. How had everything whiplashed so badly on him? And what had Steve _seen?_ The next few minutes were going to be a disaster, he could just tell.

“JARVIS, load ‘em up,” Steve demanded, eyes glittering with annoyance.

A stack of glowing blue holographic panels appeared in front of Steve, and Tony stared at a holographic version of him being kissed by Ty-- _damn_ that rotten troublemaker--and plastered over it in blocky white letters.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

_Iron Man Turns To Stone._

Keeping it classy, InTouch. Tony started to speak, but Steve flicked his hand and swept away the first holographic tabloid, only to be met with the same image but a different headline.

_Tony Stark Becomes ViaStone’s Newest SUBsidiary_

Okay, the Globe could go fuck themselves.

_A New Merger On The Horizon? Stark Taken Over By Stone._

The National Examiner. Tony groaned, feeling the beginnings of a spectacular headache.

Steve repeated the motion, and Tony sighed as headline after headline appeared, all showing that damnable kiss, though some kept it front and center while others had gotten creative and dug out old photos of him and Ty to adorn the front cover.

_Stark Future For Stone_

_Stone Moves Into The Iron Age_

_Looks Like Stone's Got Stark All Ty'd Up_

“I didn’t fuck Ty!” Tony finally shouted, solidly irritated now. He was going to _murder_ Ty. He didn’t need this publicity right now, not before a major shareholder meeting. There would be looks and carefully gauging questions that Tony just Did Not want to deal with, and all that was awful enough. But worst of all, _Steve_ was pissed about it.

“Actually, you did. Your sex tape dropped this morning. ‘Stark Naked and Stone-d.’ Very clever play on words.” Steve’s voice was frosty now, and Tony was fairly certain there was a new hole somewhere in the Tower’s walls, and wreckage of punching bags down in the gym.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tony snapped out, wanting to cause a bit of damage himself.

 _That stupid damn tape._ Was the damn tape going to haunt him for the rest of his life?! If he could go back in time, he was going to punch Ty in the throat for suggesting they film themselves back on that stupid weekend trip to the Hamptons. They’d been drunk as hell, and Ty had been high as fuck, and Tony had been stupid enough to agree to the stupid bullshit, and now the world could watch 24-year-old him get tied down--badly, because Ty was _shit_ at knots--and fucked--also badly, because Ty had been high and had been fucking the sheets half the time he’d thought he’d been fucking _him_ \--and then the stupid bastard had left the tape in the room while they went out to go get dinner. It had been long gone by the time they’d thought to search for it.

But that had been almost twelve years ago, and a _lot_ had changed since then.

“Okay, that thing is super old, and not even all that big of a deal. It gets trotted out every once in a while, but we got it discredited. Obie paid off some random actors to claim it as theirs. Most of the world thinks it’s a very good fake, nothing more.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“Well shit, Steve, it’s not like I’m sleeping with him now! You’re way too defensive over _nothing_.”

“I trust you Tony, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here right now if I thought you had, but you’re delusional if you think I’m supposed to not be at all bothered by any of this.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was the paranoid one in this relationship.”

“That!” Steve gestured wildly at Tony. “ _That_ is what I’m talking about, right there! You’re so damn inconsiderate Tony!”

“It’s not like I told him to kiss me, Steve!”

“No, but you know damn well that I don’t like him around you--and for good fucking reason--and the next thing I know, you’re on the other side of the country with him and having dinner together, and he’s in your space and kissing you, and _none_ of that had to happen!”

“It was a business dinner! He just happened to be there!”

“First of all, you could've left along with everyone else, and if nothing else, you should have ducked that kiss!! I meant it when I said he doesn’t get to touch you!”

“Pepper and Rhodey kiss me all the time! You don’t mind that! Why is it Ty gets you so worked up, huh?”

“Why? _Why?_ ”

“He’s just playing around, Steve.”

“TIBERIUS STONE HAS BEEN TRYING TO FUCK YOU FOR THE LAST YEAR, DAMMIT!”

A pained silence filled the room as the echoes of Steve’s shout faded. Tony’s cheek ticked as he fought down the urge to land his own retort and make it all worse. Patience. Steve would be so damn proud. Steve drew in a calming breath, and let it out slowly, then did it again. And again. One last time.

“The _problem,”_ Steve finally ground out, “is that you are utterly oblivious to anyone else’s feelings but your own, Tony. I’ve been dealing with the blow-up from your fun little dinner, and Pepper’s had to clean up the mess before it negatively affects your company, and the other Avengers have been harassed by random paparazzi looking for a comment or a juicy insight, and you can’t see past your own nose enough to understand _why_ there’s a problem in the first place.”

“It’s just _Ty,_ Steve.” 

Steve sighed. “Pepper had JARVIS trace as much of the initial source as he could. There was a cameraman planted in the restaurant, Tony. A little digging, and guess who hired him?” 

Tony froze. “Are you saying _Ty_ set all this up?”

“JARVIS traced that damn tape back to him as well.” 

“But…” Tony trailed off, stunned at the implications. IF that all were the case, then...shit. Ty was exactly enough of an asshole to pull a stunt like this, especially if his goal was to drive a wedge between him and Steve so he could move in for the kill. 

Steve beckoned him over with a crook of his finger.

Tony considered staying put for a mutinous second but knew it would go worse for him in the end. Besides, Steve had a point, didn’t he? And Pepper...he was going to catch hell from Pepper too. She always got a bit testy whenever Ty came into the picture, and any week that damned sex tape came crawling out of whatever hole they’d buried it in was a bad one. Steve would’ve been the one to bear the brunt of that inevitable explosion, because Pepper would’ve told him about the tape, and that conversation always went badly for anyone involved. As leader of the Avengers, Steve also would’ve been the one inundated with phone calls and emails about the headlines. The sex tape would have only compounded the whole mess exponentially, and Tony had no illusions about how all that had been going for Steve. It was going to be two weeks, maybe three, before everything died down and was replaced with a more interesting scandal, and if Steve didn’t snap and go off the deep end before it was all over, it would be a miracle.

Shit.

Steve brought a hand up and cupped Tony’s cheek with it, the pad of his thumb slowly moving back and forth across his skin and over the neatly trimmed edges of his beard. Tony closed his eyes and let himself nuzzle into the touch apologetically.

“And _now_ you get it. Why do you always seem to clue in after the fact, Tony?” 

Tony opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Steve placed a finger over his lips. “We’re fixing that, Tony, _tonight._ You’re going to fuck me properly until I’ve gotten this damn _stress_ out my system, and that’s going to take a while.”

Oh dammit, that meant cock rings.

Steve didn’t miss _that_ lovely fact registering in his expression, either. “Got it in one. You’ll be putting work in on this one, Tony. You’re going to cater to my every need, just the same way you catered to yours at that dinner and started all this mess. You’re going to fuck me again, and again, and then maybe-- _maybe_ \--I’ll consider letting you come, too.”

Steve had settled the collar around Tony’s neck as he spoke, pulling it snug and buckling it with quick, sure, movements. Tony shuddered, hating the way it settled heavily on his neck, with the studs lining the inside ensuring that he wouldn’t just adapt to its presence and forget it was there. No, he was going to be aware of every second of the time he had to wear it, constantly reminded of his mistakes. _._

That _fucking collar_... Steve wound the length of chain in his hand tighter and tighter, drawing Tony in closer, like he was an unruly pet. He could already feel his face starting to warm up as he flushed.

“Pepper’s going to be wanting to have a “chat” sometime soon, too, just so you know.”

_Fuuuuck._

“But for now, you belong to me.” Steve’s voice was dark promise and sin, shot through with possessiveness and that frustrated rumble that meant Tony was in for it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering about the extra-fuzzy Ty: he's definitely Up To Something, but he comes off better given Tony's POV. More will be addressed in the (eventual) sequel.


End file.
